Reflection
by wickedsingularity
Summary: [Drabble] The feeling of fingertips trailing over a bare shoulder blade. Reflections in glass.


It was so hot in your room. Too hot. The fingers dancing over the keyboard of your laptop had slipped and slid all over. You had no idea how many times you had hit that blasted backspace key. The air conditioning on the residential floor was busted, and you knew Tony was working on fixing it, but you needed to finish this report for Maria.

Which is why you were now in the kitchen, and it was blissfully empty. You had no idea where the rest of the team was, and at the moment, you didn't care.

Finding the less stifling heat of the room soothing, you were soon well on the way with the report. Occasionally, you cast a glance at the window showing the New York cityscape through the tinted windows. It was bright and so hot outside you could imagine the air shimmering.

You made it to the end of the report and rewarded yourself with a large gulp of ice cold water before you placed the cursor at the top, and began reading through, your finger occasionally pressing the down arrow. You knew it was a damn good report though, so you found yourself glancing up at the window more and more often.

One of those moments when you were lost in the view of New York, something about the reflection changed. Someone appeared in the doorway behind you and you were on instant alert. Your eyes narrowed slightly, trying to make the person appear clearer. When they took a step closer you saw that it was Bucky, and you relaxed.

You were about to turn around and beckon him over, when he took another step towards you. He was being stealthy, and he hadn't noticed you noticing him, so you decided to pretend you were still reading. You kept your head still slightly bowed, but your eyes were fixed on the approaching figure.

As he got closer you saw he was wearing only shorts and that white tank top you kept begging him to get rid of, it was so worn and frayed. His hair was tied up in a lose bun and the stubble he had been growing since he came home from his last mission casting a dark shadow on his cheeks. You resisted the deep breath you wanted to let out at the sight of your boyfriend.

Now he was right behind you. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, and in the window you could see him gazing down at you. His eyes wandered, taking you in as you sat there in your short shorts and your dark blue top. You wanted so much to turn around and wrap your arms around his large frame, but you pressed the down arrow a couple of times instead, neither of you noticing that the cursor was already at the end.

Bucky raised his metal arm and let it move above your shoulder, never coming near you. His eyes wandered back and forth down your back, until they undeniably found your ass, and then they moved back up again. His hand moved towards the dark hair resting on your shoulders, but then he lowered it again.

Again, you wanted to turn around, to remind him that you wanted him to touch you with the metal arm. But he had risen his flesh hand instead and this time he touched you. Warm fingers ghosted over the exposed skin on your back. It was as if he wasn't able to not touch you, his eyes following the path his fingers made, not even considering if he disturbed you while you were working.

You couldn't tear your eyes away from the reflection in the mirror. Your skin broke into goose bumps as Bucky's fingers moved over your shoulder blade and danced up to your shoulder. You forgot how to breathe as he pushed the hair away from your neck, but it wouldn't stay away. It rested on his hand as his calloused fingers trailed up your neck. When his eyes met yours in the window, did you finally remember how to breathe again.

You stared into each other's eyes and Bucky paused. He had you craving him, and he heard it in your deep, controlled breaths. Bucky's fingers slid up to under your chin and made you turn your head. Your dark chocolate eyes met his ice blue ones, and they made you feel lightheaded for a moment. His tongue darted out to lick his lips, before he leant down and pressed his lips to yours. You sighed into him and he moved his hands to push your hair away from your face, the contrast between the metal and the flesh always having a strong effect on you. He carded his fingers into the dark tresses and held you steady while he sucked your bottom lip for a moment.

When he pulled away you knew for sure you were lightheaded. And your body was humming, though you wanted him all the time, the hot weather always made you a little bit hungrier for him.

"Hi," he whispered against your lips, his hands combing your hair back.

"Hi, James," you murmured back, leaning in that fraction of an inch needed to press your lips to his again. You let him know what you wanted with that kiss, and his hands tightened in your hair in response.

Before Bucky let the kiss become too heated though, he pulled away again, his lips moving against yours as he spoke. "Tony fixed the AC. You wanna go downstairs and take advantage of it?"

You moved to slam the lid of your laptop down. He stepped away and you hopped off the stool, taking his metal hand in yours and holding your laptop safely under your other arm.

"Come on, Sergeant."


End file.
